The First Time
by ghostwritten2
Summary: Leroux inspired one shot. Erik and the Persian discuss Erik's first job as an assassin. COMPLETE.


**A/N - Thanks so much to Polly Moopers, best beta ever!**

"I don't like this new assignment of yours, Erik," I told my companion. "You're an artist, an entertainer – not an assassin."

"Not until now," Erik agreed. His demeanor made me uneasy. His eyes seemed to glow beneath his mask.

"You shouldn't do this."

"The Shah-in-Shah thinks differently," he replied casually. "And it's a chance to learn a new skill."

"A very dangerous one," I said, crossing my arms. He shot me an unreadable glance, his eyes glinting. He made no answer. I was pushing the subject, and I knew it. When Erik didn't want to talk, no power on Heaven or Earth could compel him.

He gave a broken laugh. "You think my life is worth anything to me, daroga?"

"There are worse things than death."

"We shall see."

"I hope we shall not."

He gave me another glance, clearly, a warning, and continued to pack his things. I held my peace after that.

I love the country of my birth, but every society has its barbarities. The low price assigned to some human lives has always disturbed me, despite the fact that I have been required to take some in my line of work. The instincts to survive and to fit in can make one commit strange deeds, but I have never been able to grow accustomed to atrocity.

Erik had an incredibly strong drive to survive, which was as well for him, since his chance of fitting in anywhere, at any time, amounted to zero. One of the many ironies in his life was that, had he been born a woman, his need to cover his face would have gone unnoticed, at least in Persia and in public. In a man, such a thing was suspect. Standing out as he did, his best method of not drawing suspicion was to put himself on public display. And that was how I'd found him.

His fame as a marketplace performer (and rumors of his unique personal appearance) had reached the ears of the Shah-in-Shah and his favorite, and I was sent to retrieve this exotic specimen from a far-off land. He was a spectacular hit, but simple feats of legerdemain and even his extraordinary face were not enough for more than a nine-days' wonder to a jaded court that thrived on novelty. And so Erik had revealed his skill with the Punjab lasso. His skill as a gladiator gave his popularity a new boost, and set the Shah to thinking.

I'd seen Erik take the lives of men before, when the situation was one in which he had either to kill or be killed. I had never seen him kill in cold blood, and I didn't like to think of it. This current job was political, and the target was an older man, dangerous for the power he wielded rather than for any personal strength. The enjoyment Erik took in his skill with the lasso had already bothered me, but I was worried about what killing a weaker man who posed no personal threat to him would do to him.

Erik was a strange creature, composed entirely of contradictions. He shunned all human companionship one minute, yet was eager for praise and acceptance the next. He could seem centuries-old and eons-wise at times and then revert to a raw, childlike, joy or sorrow.

A perplexing being in all ways: stubborn, defiant, willful, and difficult. A conundrum. Yet I liked him. He was oddly lacking in defenses; despite all he'd been through in his life, the world retained the ability to hurt him. And I was responsible for his being there; I'd been the one to bring him. I was worried that this new task would strain his troubled mind too far; perhaps break it.

Erik returned three days later. I assumed that the Shah-in-Shah knew where he was, for I received no questions regarding his whereabouts.

I showed up at his quarters uninvited. Whether he was happy to see me or not, I could not say; he was in an odd state and was wearing the same clothing he'd worn when he'd left. Judging from the state of the garments, he'd been wearing them continuously.

"Ah, it's you, daroga! Enter," he said, bowing deeply. _And somewhat sarcastically_, I thought.

"Indeed," I said, walking in. "You're back."

"So I am." He straightened up, closed the door, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His pupils were dilated, and I'd have thought any other man in the grip of some drug, but Erik seemed rather in a state of near-feverish emotional excitement.

"And how did your task suit you?" I asked, as we walked toward his small sitting room.

"Oh, daroga!" He whirled on me, grinning crookedly. "You have no idea. It's what I was born to do."

Though I'd begun to be afraid of his answer, I had not expected that.

"I don't think any man is born for the sole purpose of putting a period to the lives of his fellows," I said. His manner alarmed me. "But it seems that you're not unduly upset by it."

"Upset!" His eyes gleamed as he motioned me to a seat. "Quite the opposite."

I raised a brow.

"You have no idea," he repeated. "To look at a man – to look calmly in a man's face – and to know that I – I, Erik! – hold the power of life and death over him, and he does not know it!" He cackled. "And then – to stalk him like a beast of prey, all the while holding this secret knowledge – and to spring! To see that sudden moment of realization that Erik is his ultimate fate! It's like being a god!"

"You're not a god," I said. Hearing him speak in this manner made me feel quite ill. "You're a man like any other."

Am I, though, daroga?" he asked, a strange intensity in his gaze. "Can you say you've ever met another man like Erik?"

"No," I said, "But being unique doesn't make you a god. And these are not good things for you to be feeling."

He wasn't listening to me.

"I've always known I was set apart from humanity," he said. "For so long I've thought I was a lesser manner of creature. But now – now I think it's possible that I might be a greater."

"Erik, listen to me," I said quietly. "This is madness. You must not talk like this. Whatever – whoever you are, whoever you were meant to be – you were not born for this purpose."

"But my hands, daroga," he continued, as if I had not spoken. "My hands smell of death now! It's the most curious thing – they never did before. It won't wash off! Sometimes I begin to think I am Death, personified, walking abroad!"

He shoved his hands under my nose. I could smell nothing but the palace's usual brown soap. From the look of things, he'd washed his hands dozens of times but his person not at all.

I grew desperate to communicate. "I smell nothing, my friend. You need to bathe and rest, and all will be well. Erik - you have many skills, many talents, and a great intellect. Don't let this pervert you."

At my last words, the strange light in his eyes went out.

"Your company is not as pleasant to me as usual, daroga," he said, sulkily. "I find I would rather be alone. I must wish you good night." And he showed me to the door.

I stood alone, outside his chambers, for a long while.

Poor creature. Poor, miserable creature. I knew then what would happen to him.

The Shah and his little sultana would use him up completely. That wonderful brain of his would be twisted and squeezed for their own use and entertainment, and when they had sucked him dry, they'd toss him aside like an orange rind. They cared nothing for the man.

But I did. It is a hard thing to be alone in the world, and I was the closest thing to a friend Erik had. I resolved then that I would protect his interests, though no one else would.

Even if I had to protect them from Erik himself.


End file.
